Absolution
by TuningFork
Summary: AU. Itachi has finally reached the end of the road. However, it is now the Hokage's explicit orders to stay alive. Slave!Itachi. Warnings: graphic violence, mentions of torture, language.
1. Knives

This fic is basically an exercise in self-satisfaction. I'm obsessed with fics that contain gratuitous hurt & comfort for Itachi, and sometimes Sasuke, so I thought, "What the heck, let's have a fic where _Itachi _is enslaved, not his dumb brother." And I started to write it. Now obviously, Kishimoto has done his best to make Itachi into a conflicted martyr. I'm not going any easier on the 'conflicted' or the 'martyr' part, so if I manage to ruin the character and turn him into a Mary Sue, feel free to lightly suggest that I throw my laptop into a bonfire.

The background in this would be a mixture of 'vaguely historical' Japan and the original _Naruto_ setting. I don't know anything about Edo or Meiji, and I certainly don't have a good grasp on Japanese feudalism. I ask you to forgive me and heavily suspend your imagination if you notice any glaring contradictions with real-life. Also, despite my poor skills at depicting reality, I don't think I'll put in anything 'magical' (meaning ninjitsu, or actual magic, you get my drift).

Last of all, I don't have a really concrete plan for this entire story. That means there will be VIOLENCE and GORE, but I don't know how far it will go. At some point, I could also mention some more icky stuff, but nothing really sexually explicit.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it. Cheers.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the _Naruto_ universe, which is trademarked by Kishimoto Masashi.

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><p>Absolution<p>

Chapter 1: Knives

"_Leaders grasp nettles." _

_- David Ogilvy_

Itachi stopped as he felt a sting in the back of his neck. His hand moved to source of the pain, and pulled out a needle. A tingling sensation traveled down his body, his limbs suddenly weighed down as if they were cotton soaked with water. Itachi smiled privately, knowing his assailant wouldn't be able to see the expression.

Hit the right spot. Good boy.

"Come out, little brother."

From the throngs of the marketplace suddenly emerged a figure draped in a hooded cloak. The black cloth that hid him from head to toe created a shocking disparity between him and the bustling masses covered with sweat and summer dust. Suddenly, the figure moved forward with frightening speed, and slammed a gloved hand into Itachi's chest. Itachi gasped sharply as his back hit a wall, the air stolen from his lungs.

"You knew I was there!" hissed the cloaked figure.

Itachi said nothing, but instead stretched out a hand that moved too fast to be seen. In that short moment, the cloaked figure immediately regretted underestimating Uchiha Itachi once more: a mere paralyzing agent that could put out a bull did not seem to affect the man at all.

But the blow never came. Sasuke only felt the blinding sunlight hit his brow, now longer shadowed by his hood. Without it, Itachi could clearly see the pupils widened in surprise, the still babyish lips slightly open. Itachi's voice held no feeling, no fear, no contempt as he said, "You have found me later than I had expected, little brother."

Sasuke quickly recovered his anger, and with a growl he stabbed his dagger clean through Itachi's shoulder, stopping only when its tip grinded against stone.

"_How dare you mock me, you sack of shit!_ _I should just gut you right here and give you to the butch—_"

Kakashi firmly held Sasuke's wrist, which was now coated with blood that flowed down the blade.

"Sandaime's orders, Sasuke. Keep him alive."

The boy snarled, but backed down and pulled out the knife with a vicious twist. Itachi kept silent but for the sound of a sharply drawn breath.

"The poison should have fully kicked in by now. I'll bring him to ANBU headquarters. _You _report directly to the Sandaime," Kakashi said, taking a coil of rope and tying it around Itachi.

"What, you can't trust me enough to not do everyone a favor and decapitate this piece of scum?" Sasuke protested. His mentor gave a pointed look and said nothing, marking the end of the conversation. Sasuke cursed under his breath as he shook off the blood from his knife with a sharp flick of the wrist. Sheathing the blade, the newly appointed head of the Uchiha clan (if you could call it that) mounted his horse and rode towards the east gate of the trading post.

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><p>Ibiki thoughtfully chewed on the rice cake his daughter-in-law had packed along with his boxed lunch. It was a little on the bland side, and the texture was chewy to a fault. But he did not complain, mainly because the starved prisoner in front of him was forced to see and hear the exaggerated movements the interrogator's jaw made.<p>

"You know, kid," Ibiki said between bites, "I never thought you had it in you. No offense. I mean sure, you could probably take down an entire fucking army—" He swallowed. "—in the time it takes for other people to do their dirty laundry. But you never seemed like—" Ibiki took a swig from his canteen to relieve the dryness in his mouth. Goddamn rice cakes. "—the nutcase-wacko type. And I usually ain't wrong about these kinds of things."

The kid said nothing, but chains that let him hang from the ceiling hit against each other, making faint clinking noises in the dark of the cell. Ibiki got up from his stool, and walked right up to the Uchiha. The man came up so close that Itachi could smell the rice and alcohol on his breath. Itachi felt his stomach cramp in protest, but gave no outward sign of it.

"But what is most surprising of all, kid, is that you managed to get caught by none other than that _runt_ brother of yours, a fifteen-year-old brat who has less talent than your left pinky. Within two weeks, no fucking less."

Silence followed Ibiki's little rant, and the bear of a man wondered what would happen if he should take one the torches hanging on the walls and ram it into the boy's wounded shoulder. It probably wouldn't draw out a single word, but Ibiki was past getting results. After a month, Ibiki realized that his captive would give him nothing more than fascination and twisted amusement. Maybe even a weird sense of respect.

Just before Ibiki could scratch that particular itch in his curiosity, the door opened to let in Hiruzen Sarutobi, the third shogun of the Land of Fire. Ibiki stood up and bowed stiffly, noticing there were no guards next to the old man.

"How was your trip to the Sand, my lord?"

"Went better than I expected. I believe the trade-off shall end in success."

"Do you wish to speak to the Uchiha?"

Sarutobi quickly scanned the prisoner's body. The burns and lacerations and the strange angle the leg turned testified that Ibiki had been thorough to a fault. The old man nodded curtly. "I must suppose there has been no progress with information, Morino-san."

"I'm wondering if there is any information to disclose at all. As time goes by I'm increasingly convinced that he is nothing more than really talented fruitcake." Sarutobi let out a forced, unhappy chuckle, and moved directly in front of Itachi.

"Ibiki, why don't you take a short break? Men have been known to see things after too many days in these cells."

The interrogator knew better than to refuse, and decided to take his free time by the river, and air out the smell of blood and stale piss out of his nostrils. As he left the wooden door closed shut, and the shadows cast by the torches returned to their darker shades of black.

Sarutobi wasted no time as he took out a small container of water from his sleeve, and lifted it to Itachi's lips. The boy (dear God, he was only twenty) lifted his head so that he could drink. The slightly bitter taste the water had let him know that it was spiked with painkillers. Some of it dribbled down his chin, gaining a rusty hue as it mixed with dried blood that crusted over his skin. When the bottle was empty, Sarutobi sat down on the stool, and sighed deeply.

"Itachi-kun, I thought we made a deal that you wouldn't get caught."

Itachi answered with a voice like sandpaper. "I thought we made a deal that Danzo wouldn't touch Sasuke. Yet only three days after leaving Kohona, I heard rumors about Sasuke being marked as a potential accomplice."

Sarutobi could not look at Itachi's face, and instead fixed his gaze on his left hand. It had no fingernails, nothing but bloody nailbeds exposed to the chilling air. It was always cold in these underground chambers, even in August.

"I'm sorry. I tried to avoid that situation, but Danzo…You know how Danzo is."

The leader of an empire felt the shame creep into his old bones, but he finally mustered the courage to look into the swollen eyes of the former prodigy.

"The best I can do for you is to tell you that Sasuke is doing a fine job of filling your place, and his father's. He's already been welcomed into the royal guard. Within a few years he'll probably take your old post as head of the guard. Maybe he'll even make general like you, someday. Everyone thinks he is a hero and a fine warrior."

"Then my plan worked."

"Exactly the way you expected."

Itachi closed his eyes in relief, finally allowing Sarutobi to break his gaze.

"When is my execution planned?"

The old man stood up, and faced a wall as if there was something fascinating embedded in the grey surface. He looked as if he had suddenly aged a hundred years, the weariness almost tangibly smoothing away his bony features.

"My son, we live in troubled times. Our land has grown too rich, and all around us are greedy enemies waiting for a crack to leak. An Uchiha revolt would be a laughable nuisance compared with a full-blown war with Mist."

Sarutobi traced a blackening stain, most likely blood, with a gnarled finger.

"Perhaps catastrophe will not strike in the next five years. Or even in the next decade. But it will eventually. The crest of our wave is bound for descent, and I will be far too weak to do anything about it, and Danjo will only pull forward our complete demise."

Itachi laughed softly, bitterly. "And I will be a rotting corpse, deep under the ground your people shall fight on."

Sarutobi turned around, and his next words seemed urgent.

"In mayhem, people will forget many things. With destruction so pervasive, Fire will be looking for a savior, and if he is any good, the last thing they will care about is his past."

His fingers ghosted over a weeping burn on Itachi's face where one of the ANBU had stamped a red-hot brand. It was not a gesture of comfort, nor one of pity, but rather a sign of admiration.

"I used to wish that politics would not prevent me from naming you my heir. Now that so much has passed, I see that I have no choice but to."

Itachi eyes bored into Sarutobi's. The boy knew. He could cut through all these grand statements, right down to the core of the ugly truth.

"What is your proposal, my lord?"

In that moment, Sarutobi shed all of his dignity and pride willingly. He would forever come back to his words and relish the pain that they gave him, etching them into his skin with a dull knife.

"Uchiha Itachi, I would like you to become a slave."

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><p>Wheeee! End of chapter. Please spare the time to write a review :)<p> 


	2. Departure

Another chapter, certainly not as dark as the previous one. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Naruto universe, which is trademarked by Kishimoto Masashi.

* * *

><p>Absolution<p>

Chapter 2: Departure

"_A perfection of means, and confusion of aims, seems to be our main problem."_

_- Albert Einstein_

"_Hokage-sama, if you were in my position, what would be your honest wish?"_

"…_I'd want to die."_

"_Then leave me be. My brother fares well, my mission is finished. I have no further business to attend to."_

_Sarutobi stayed silent for a moment, gathering strength to let out his next words._

"_Itachi, you have given your life to Fire and its people. Now, can you take it back, once more for Fire's sake?"_

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><p>There was no trial, no announcement of a public execution. Danzo nearly had an aneurysm when the Hokage briefed the council about his plans.<p>

Nonetheless, it had gone as Sarutobi had expected. At first, Kohona was swept with wild rumors that said Itachi had escaped and the ANBU were hiding their failure. People waited in quiet anxiety for a gory beheading, or even a hanging where they could see the once-proud Uchiha Itachi break down and cry as he climbed up the gallows. They all said that they wanted justice for his terrible crimes, but it was a unspoken fact what they really wanted was to degrade him, make the bastard pay back for all those times an Uchiha had looked down upon them and talked in that cold, condescending manner distinctive to the clan. But all of this scandal eventually died down, as scandal will, within a few months. Soon there were other things to whisper and gossip about, and Itachi was forgotten.

Finally, Sarutobi could send Itachi into the hands of the merchants. Danzo would not complain aloud about this particular compromise: stirring outrage about a sufficiently harsh punishment would only make himself look like a madman, or overly ambitious, or both. More importantly, the Hokage could confidently know that somewhere, Itachi was alive and patiently waiting for crisis to strike. Still, Sarutobi couldn't deny that the fate he had allotted to the boy was more terrible than death. He tried to convince himself that this was the right thing to do, yet he couldn't catch a single thread of sleep. The old man lit one of the lamps in his Spartan room, and sat on his tatami, gathering his head in his hands.

He had no illusions about honor or loyalty, but Sarutobi still marveled at himself at how low he had fallen. In that clammy, fetid cell, Sarutobi had been ready to throw his most terrible threat against Itachi. Had Itachi said no, let me die with bloodied lips, the Hokage would have threatened to announce Sasuke as an accomplice and have him arrested by Root. He would have brutally attacked Itachi's only weakness, when the boy was hanging from a ceiling covered in festering wounds. When had the shogun turned into such a disgusting creature? Was there really only one true leader that could follow in the Hokage's footsteps? So much pain was following this ludicrous solution, and the entire ordeal was making him go out of his own mind. Surely there must be another way…

Sarutobi looked through the window. The sky was a velvety Prussian blue, just an hour before sunrise. The traders wouldn't have arrived at the ANBU headquarters yet, where Itachi had been healing after his month-long interrogation. Despite his old age, Sarutobi still retained most of his prowess as a warrior, and none of the guards would refuse an order to rest for "a few minutes" from the Sandaime Hokage himself. Perhaps he should just break into the prison and send off the boy with a horse and some supplies. He was more than deserving of the chance to live a minimally decent life, not stained by political intrigue and torture and humiliation. He could tell Itachi to travel north to Rain, where no one had ever heard of the name Uchiha. Find a pretty wife and learn how to farm, the Hokage would say, handing the boy a small bag of money. Forget that you ever knew Kohona.

A rooster crowed in the distance. Beyond the mountains that guarded the village, the pale edge of the sun rose ever so slightly. It was too late. Sarutobi's single chance at atonement was gone.

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><p>Sasuke tossed his wooden sword to the ground of the courtyard, and brushed the silk of his hakama. No one else was awake at this time of day, not even his servants. He had taken to training before sunrise, an old habit of his brother's. Why? He didn't know. He didn't know anything.<p>

Capturing Itachi had been ridiculously easy. Sasuke had embarked on that mission knowing that there was a very large chance he would die in the process. He never expected his brother to be in plain sight, nor did he expect his brother to actually get hit by the needle he had thrown. There wasn't any struggle, no protest even when Sasuke had gone through his shoulder with the dagger. It was plain surrender, and in Sasuke's eyes, the only incentive was humiliation. You cannot catch me, little brother, unless I take your blade and guide it to my own throat.

Later, Sasuke would swallow his pride and ask Kakashi, who had never shown any sign of surprise, about why Itachi would act like that. In a flat voice his teacher would say that he honestly no idea, but that then again there was no reason for Itachi to keep Sasuke unharmed during the massacre.

It all seemed terribly _off_, although the outcome did nothing but make Sasuke's life better. He was a legend that had returned to his home town holding the head of a monster. Women no longer looked at him with pity glistening in their eyes, and men talked to him like an equal. Children would come up to him and asked about how they could become a great samurai too. The royal guard, who he couldn't even apply to because of his age, suddenly invited him to work within one of their most elite squads. Everything he that he had envied about his brother came down upon him in a deluge.

He still couldn't find out what happened to his brother after the capture. Probably he had a stint with interrogation, Sasuke was almost certain about that. But what about afterwards? The ANBU acted like Itachi never existed. There was no trial, not even a date, and because of that, no punishment. What kind of importance did an insane mass-murderer hold in the eyes of the ruling party? Surely it would be better to make an example of the criminal, not hide him away. Sasuke tried to pry away any bits and pieces of information about him, but nothing turned up but idle gossip.

Revenge had only transformed Sasuke's anger into obsession. It wasn't forgiveness that he wanted to offer, but somehow he couldn't keep his fist closed around his rage.

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><p>"Get up princess. It's time."<p>

Itachi, who had been sitting on the floor, stood up obediently. The guard opened the door and tied the prisoner's hands with rope. Then he roughly shoved Itachi through the quiet halls. There were no other cells on this floor, and Itachi's bare feet were almost silent upon the stone floor. After a month of intensive care and another two of recuperation, only a trained eye could notice the slight limp he carried. He also couldn't stretch his left arm straight up. The prolonged lack of movement had caused Itachi's limbs atrophy and waste away, but long hours of exercise in the tiny cell had let Itachi regain an amount of lean muscle. He certainly didn't look as healthy as when he was a full-time soldier, yet somehow his carriage still betrayed off his noble lineage, as if he was a prince being escorted around a foreign palace.

The guard stuck Itachi's head with the shaft of his spear, telling him to stop in front of the wooden cart with a raised top covered with cloth. It was refreshing to have his way with the bastard, but also extremely annoying because the Uchiha always seemed so dignified, no matter how many nasty taunts the guards would throw. What the hell was he so proud of anyway? Gutting his parents in their own bedroom?

"Let me have a look at the merchandise," said a man with cloth draped around his head, most likely hailing from Sand. The man thoroughly inspected Itachi, forcing open his jaw to look at his teeth, gauging the strength of his scarred shoulders, weighing his androgynous beauty against his hard, sinewy build.

"He seems quite…versatile. I once again thank the gracious Hokage for a gift of such quality. Sand will always remember this act of goodwill."

"Yeah well, he's a stuck-up little bitch that thinks too much of himself. Maybe you oughta' give him a good taste of the lash before sale, if you know what I mean?"

The guard chuckled and tried to nudge the merchant in a good-natured manner, but the merchant did not react. Instead he grabbed the length of rope that the guard had coiled around his own hand. The merchant pulled it with a sharp jerk, and Itachi accordingly stepped forward, his bound hands stretched in front of his body.

"Come, it is a long way to Sand."

The merchant climbed onto the front of the cart, where he grabbed the reins of two horses. Itachi stooped under the cloth cover, and joined several other wretched souls that twitched and groaned in their troubled sleep. He heard the crack of a whip, and then the pounding of hoofs on dirt. The guard turned around and went back to his living quarters. The damn Uchiha was a pain in the ass to the very end, making the guard wake up at five in the fucking morning.

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><p>Another chapter ended! Thanks for reading, and I hope you can take a little bit of your time and review :)<p>

**Hira** - Thanks for your review (I couldn't send the reply by message, sorry). Yeah, I've seen every kind of slave fic happen, except Itachi stuff. I hope this will help to fill the void! (And your English is fine :D).


	3. Pride

I honestly don't know if I can keep updating this quickly. I'm usually never this diligent XD

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Naruto universe, which is trademarked by Kishimoto Masashi.

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><p>Absolution<p>

Chapter 3: Pride

_"Pride in the case of a rich man is bad, but pride in the case of a poor man is worse."_

_- Abu Bakr _

The trip had been sublimely uninteresting, except for the change of climate and the occasional rut in the ground. During the three days Itachi had spent in the cart, no one had attempted conversation. A woman with a high forehead and tan skin (markedly western features, maybe Grass), had cradled a young boy, in her arms. She sang softly in a language that Itachi couldn't understand, trying to console her son but failing miserably. The boy looked about five or six, and shook with soft sobs. Next to them sat a brawny man, armed with thick muscle and a large beard. Itachi could see the ends of raised scars that wrapped around his sides, which probably meant the man was not a newcomer to these sorts of trips. Indeed, he did not look overtly sad but rather apathetic to the whole matter, absent-mindedly rubbing the iron shackles that chained his ankles to the cart. Last of all, a teenage boy, about the same age as Sasuke, crouched in a corner with a restless, almost feverish shimmer in his eyes. The boy mumbled to himself in a low voice that disconcerted the mother next to him, and whenever he broke out into a particularly loud burst of mumbling she would clutch her son a little closer to her chest. Throughout all this Itachi generally closed his eyes and meditated, his recently favored method of persevering.

Their arrival at Suna was followed with a great deal of fuss and preparation: the auctions were to be held only a few hours later. The merchant that had driven the cart led the five new "acquisitions" to a dark store hidden within an alley. Inside were other slaves of all genders, races, and ages, yet none of them made any noise, probably because of the thick cane that the huge shopkeeper brandished fearsomely. They were split into different groups, and Itachi was led to one that lined up in front of a desk that was manned by a tiny man wearing thick, dirty spectacles. He seemed to be writing labels for each slave on a small chalkboard. When Itachi's turn came, the man looked didn't even look up, rather asking questions in a rapid-fire, monotone manner.

"Age?"

"Do you know how to read?"

"Any combat experience?"

"Are you a virgin?"

Itachi found that he could answer each question truthfully, even the more embarrassing ones, for no one had asked his name. He saw the man scrawl down in white chalk, "Healthy 20 year old man! 3 in 1 COMBO! Educated, strong and beautiful! ULTRA VALUE-DEAL!"

Then Itachi was shoved into another line that was handled by a bunch of men that seemed more intimidating then the label-writer. He was stripped of his prison yukata, and one of the men quickly appraised his naked body and the wooden sign. He seemed contemplative for a moment, and finally barked an order.

"High-rollers! Make im' extra ready!"

Itachi was sent outside, still naked, and then ordered to sit on a bench. He felt something smooth touch his hairline: a razor. A few hairs actually fell down onto the ground until the cane-wielding shopkeeper yelled, "Stop! Leave the hair on this one, this one, and this one." For some reason, Itachi shuddered. In a childish, vain way he was glad to have kept his hair long, even though it was matted and tangled from a severe lack of care. Yet his empty stomach twisted slightly when the order was given, but Itachi decided that it was best to try and forget about it.

Thankfully, he was saved from the effort when he was abruptly soaked by a large bucket of water. The dirt that had accumulated on his skin from the trip washed off. Someone gave him a comb, and he brushed out the knots as quickly as he could. He was pointed towards an old woman that handed out a white kimono, thin with use and patched here and there. Itachi slipped on the clothing, which was a little too large for him, and allowed his neck to be collared and chained in a line of four.

It turned out he was in the last bunch to be sold. When the four slaves, all young men, were wooden led to a wooden podium lifted off the marketplace floor, the muttering and talking the crowd of buyers made increased considerably in volume. The auctioneer cleared his throat, ready to introduce the main attraction.

"Here we have the cream of the crop, my good sirs! Young men with many talents, all healthy and able! First, a thirty-year-old from Mist! Former fisherman, good power in that back of his, take a look!..."

The voice of the auctioneer melted into a drone when Itachi discovered a face in the crowd that he recognized. The blank calm that had acted as his dam broke, all the humiliation and fear and despair that he had kept back rushing through him without mercy. Fuck, Itachi intoned. Fuck.

Orochimaru. Former general and personal apprentice to Hiruzen Sarutobi. A painted depiction of his face had been in all of the guides for Fire officers: Itachi could remember the garishly purple eyeliner and pasty white skin he was always shown to have. He was described sometimes as a traitor, sometimes as a genius, but always as a lunatic. Spies and soldiers that were captured in Sound, the country that Orochimaru had founded after his defection, almost never came back. When they did, they came back in pieces, both physically and mentally. Itachi remembered a veteran who had been unfortunate enough to be a guest of Sound's prisons. The man was missing his ears, nose, eyes, and tongue. He had somehow come back to Kohona, raving mad and bleeding horribly, carrying a piece of cloth sewed into his chest. There had been a message written on the cloth. "Sound presents Fire with a sculpture personally crafted by its humble Leader."

"…Sold at six-hundred thousand ryo! Next, a farmer from the lands of the North! Excellent endurance, fine teeth, don't you say…"

Orochimaru was staring at Itachi as well, a smile slowly spreading across his painted lips. His gaze did not move over to any of the other slaves.

"…and would you take a look here at this guy! Seventeen-years-old yet built like an ox! Great for heavy labor! Apparently an apprentice to a blacksmith, very good with his hands!..."

Itachi looked in horror as Orochimaru whispered into the ear of a man with grey hair, but neither of them raised their hand for the boy standing next to him.

"Last, but certainly not least! Soldier from Fire! Twenty-years-old, can read and fight! Don't worry about the scars: trophies collected from many battles I was told! Would you look at that face, my good sirs! A bodyguard and tutor for your children, and maybe even a little something extra at night!—" the crowd chuckled collectively, "Starting at three-hundred thousand ryo!"

The man with grey hair raised his hand. Itachi felt himself slip away as instinct and panic took over. He could easily steal the sword and keys from the merchant standing behind him. Then he could cut his way through the crowd, and somehow find a horse, and—

"Thank you sir! Three fifty?"

Itachi's wild mind stopped when he saw someone else raise his hand. Another face he recognized from his manuals, albeit not as readily as Orochimaru. Temari, daughter of the Kazekage. A red-haired boy, who must've been Gaara, the heir, whispered into her ear. She seemed to be representing him, the way the gray haired man did for his own master.

"Four-hundred?"

Other people raised their hands at first, but as the prices soared willing buyers soon thinned out, leaving Orochimaru and Gaara. Gaara was known to be as merciless as his father, a monster that crushed to death anyone who caused him the slightest displeasure.

"Seven fifty?"

Itachi prayed that Gaara would last to the end.

"Eight-hundred?"

Suddenly, Orochimaru crinkled his eyes as he bared all of his teeth in a wicked grin. He was still looking directly into Itachi's eyes. The grey-haired man raised his hand, and spoke in a clear voice.

"One-million ryo."

Everyone, even the auctioneer, was shocked into silence. That was big money, the kind of money that could pay for assassinations or arranged marriages. Gaara did not contest the bid. The auctioneer broke out of his stupor and slammed his hand onto his wooden podium, nearly bruising it in the process.

"No one else? Sold at one-million to the gentleman in glasses!"

Itachi felt the tension in his body evacuate, along with all the emotion that had been brewing. It was done. A feeling akin to what he experienced right before suicide missions overtook him. He found his calm again, and every scream that resonated within him focused into a single dot of purpose. His task had been allotted, nothing would change that. Emptiness pervaded every corner of his mind, while all of the buyers that didn't purchase dissipated.

Orochimaru and his aide climbed the stairs leading to the wooden stage, and shook hands with the merchant that had been standing behind Itachi.

"You have a truly excellent sense of judgement, Orochimaru-sama. If I had the money, I would take him myself!" The merchant laughed heartily.

"Indeed. Kabuto, you agree with this choice, yes?" The grey-haired man nodded. Orochimaru circled Itachi, who was now free from the chain, with a thoughtful expression on his face. The merchant smiled greedily as Kabuto handed him a piece of paper that sealed the purchase.

"Where will you put him to use Orochimaru-sama? With merchandise of this quality sure you'd want him as a personal slave. He's a smart lad, could even do household chores like a woman if you put him to it—"

"He's going to work in one of my mines."

The merchant's jaw dropped, his excited slew of words cut off.

"Why—why, that's a little bit of a waste, don't you think Orochimaru-sama?"

Orochimaru's eyes flashed dangerously, but his mouth turned up in pleasure.

"I enjoy extravagance." A bony finger that had black manicure slid down the contour of Itachi's cheek, slowly tracing the round burn mark it bore. Itachi forced his body to not shake. "Wastefulness is one of my many vices."

The merchant laughed nervously.

"Well—he's perfectly fit. I mean, most men kick the bucket after a year or two in the mines, but he'll probably last longer than even the hardest, toughest slave in Rock."

Orochimaru's smile deepened.

"I'm sure of it. Come, slave-boy." The way he addressed Itachi brought back a ghost of the despair he had felt only a few moments earlier, but Itachi pressed it down quickly enough. "Sound is waiting for you."

* * *

><p>Gaara had again left the slave auctions filled with disappointment and regret. The slave with the long black hair screamed "Uchiha" from every pore of his body. Gaara should have topped the other bidder. It would have been worth it. An Uchiha could've known everything, anything about the boy from Fire, and Gaara had turned down the chance because of one-million ryo. A growl escaped his throat. Temari's advice to give up the purchase was useless, utterly, utterly useless.<p>

From the corner of his eye, he could see Temari step back just a little further. He had half a mind to order her execution, but decided that it would be unwise to kill his only representative that could actually speak to him face-to-face. He would save all of this for the boy. He would not rest until he held those eyeballs with sapphire irises in his own palm. He would wait for the day he could crush them, and see the clear fluid flow between his fingers, see the light in the sapphires go out.

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><p>It turned out that Orochimaru was staying in Suna for another week or so for "business." Kabuto was to bring his new purchases to Sound, which was only two days away by foot. Once again Itachi chained into a line of four, this time by his hands and feet, and every step the gang took there would be a dull clatter of steel. Kabuto dragged along the line while riding a mottled horse, a merry expression constantly gracing his seemingly benign features (Itachi wasn't stupid enough to think that any underling of Orochimaru would be benign). He even attempted small talk, but none of the slaves would answer, and soon he was reduced to making comments to his horse about the scenery ("What a lovely orchard that is! Would you like an apple?"). There was a small dagger tucked into Kabuto's belt, and underneath his kimono there was enough muscle to let Itachi know that even with the glasses, the aide was no slouch when it came to fighting.<p>

The march led them deeper into Sound, formerly known as the Land of Rice Fields. Unlike Sand, the ground was moist, speckling Itachi with mud up to his calf. During a brief resting period many of the slaves rolled up their hakama, not really knowing why they'd want to keep a clean appearance. They arrived at Oto in the dead of the night, and Itachi found himself to be relieved after the almost non-stop walking that formed blisters and had later broken them.

Oto was very different from Suna or Kohona. Orochimaru was holding his dictatorship through his military, and the streets were filled with either cowed citizens or soldiers that liked to show off their swordsmanship far too often. All of the buildings were relatively smaller, for Sound was still a new country, except for the huge, towering palace that was in the center of the city. Not far behind it was a line of rocky mountains, where Orochimaru's personal mines were. Kabuto dropped them off at the entrance to the mines, and then gave orders to the head guard to go through the "usual." The guard had apparently been asleep when they had came, and with a grunt he unlocked their chains.

There was a tiny hut made of clay that Itachi was first sent into. Inside, he was told to sit down, shut up, and stay still. Two men, equally as drowsy as the head guard held down Itachi's right wrist onto a wooden table. From the corner of his eye he could see a bowl full of glowing coals, and again his mind shut down, like he did in the ANBU dungeons. He focused his vision onto the stubble that covered the head guard's protruding chin, determined to count each and every hair. The head guard grabbed a brand that was shaped into the kanji character for 'slave," and pressed it down onto the back of Itachi's hand. He held it down for a couple of seconds, and then replaced the iron into the coals. The guards holding down the wrist now held Itachi's head, and this time the brand passed right over his eyes. It sizzled as it left its mark in the right side of his forehead, and Itachi smelled the familiar odor of flesh burning.

The head guard pulled back. Itachi suddenly realized how tense his jaw had been, for as he relaxed he could feel the pain tingling in his molars. All of the guards looked impressed, but they said nothing as he was sent outside, and guided to the slave's quarters. As he walked in the dark, he could hear sporadic screams burst from the direction he had came from, all of which were quickly muffled. For the first time in a very, very long while, Itachi felt a twisted sense of happiness. Ibiki, as his instructor and his interrogator, would have been proud of him.

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><p>Same old, same old. Itachi thinks he's fucked, then he realizes he's actually more fucked than before. And then we all revel in his pain, mainly through fanfiction. :P On the bright side, I actually think I have an okay general story planned out. All I need to do know is decide on the ending.<p>

Anyways, I really appreciate each favorite, alert+, and review that has been gifted to me. Nothing makes a writer happier than his/her readers' opinion. :D


	4. Misconduct

So I finally updated. This is one of the more violent chapters, enjoy at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the _Naruto_ universe, which is trademarked by Kishimoto Masashi.

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><p>Absolution<p>

Chapter 4: Misconduct

_"A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams."_

_-John Barrymore_

Itachi's first impression of Naruto was that he was excessively stupid.

Itachi had woken up to the boy screaming in his ear, telling him to wake the fuck up and properly introduce himself. He would have dragged Itachi off the small square of cloth he laid on, if Itachi hadn't instantly placed a strong hand on Naruto's neck. Old habits die hard.

"Shit shit shit! I'm sorry, for God's sake! I'm fucking sorry, put me down—"

Itachi sighed, half out of relief, half out of annoyance. Naruto fell unceremoniously to the ground. The boy had broken out in a cold sweat, a thoroughly terrified expression on his face. Very few had Uchiha Itachi strangle them and lived to tell about it.

"Are you my roommate?" Itachi rubbed the grit out of his eyes. The night's short sleep wasn't enough to take away the soreness in his body. A sharp pain emanated from his brands, and out of a perverse curiosity, Itachi wanted to find a mirror.

"I—I guess you can say that." Naruto was back on his feet. He stared at Itachi. The guy had seemed harmless enough when he was asleep: pale, skinny, a little banged-up, pretty enough to be mistaken for a girl. Oh shit. Where the fuck had his manners gone?

"I'm Uzumaki Naruto, and I'm going to be the next Hokage!" Naruto folded his arms and beamed down on Itachi, his standard pose for when he told other people about his awesome dream. Like all the others, Itachi did not receive him very enthusiastically.

"Then you're from Fire?" Well, that was a better reaction than most. Naruto, now encouraged by Itachi's response, started talking his mouth off.

"You bet it I am! Well, I don't actually remember _being_ there, but the bastard Kabuto told me that I was. And I know that the ruler of Fire is the Hokage, and that only the toughest motherfucker in the land can become the Hokage. I'm tough, and I'm gonna' get out of this shithole someday, and the Hokage won't know what hit him when I beat his ass up and make him beg for mercy. Then I'll come back to Sound and beat the shit out of…"

With half-closed eyes, Itachi examined Naruto. Very stupid. Almost retarded, actually. The boy seemed to be about Sasuke's age, but too little food and too much hard labor had caused Naruto to be shorter, with a smaller frame. He had dirty blonde hair that stuck out in all directions, contrasting sharply with the bright blue eyes set in that thick skull. His skin was tan and rough, and Itachi could see the faded brand partially obscured by Naruto's hair.

"…You're from Fire too, right? I'm wondering if you happen to know any other Uzumaki's. None of the other guys from Fire know, but I bet they're not telling me just to piss me off. I bet the Uzumaki's are the greatest fucking clan out there and—"

"I'm sorry. I don't know anyone else who is called Uzumaki."

The smile on Naruto's face dropped for a little

"Huh. Bummer. Speaking of names, what's yours?"

Itachi hesitated, pretending to take a moment to change into the crumpled work clothes that he found on the floor (he did not want to think why there was dried blood sprinkled on the front). There was no real reason not to tell the brat his real name, but in his gut he had a gnawing feeling that "Uchiha Itachi" would scare the kid badly. Probably Naruto had never heard of Itachi or what he had done, and even if he did, he'd maybe be the first person not to try to kill him or completely avoid him. Yet, Itachi couldn't stand the thought of spending his remaining years being surrounded by whispers of "murderer" and "monster", deprived of even the basest form of camaraderie slavery's misery could provide. His mind flipped through names, names of friends, of family, of people he had killed, of people he had read about.

Ah. There it was. It would do perfectly. Itachi's lips indulged in a smile, not nearly as bright as Naruto's.

"I'm Shisui. I used to be a soldier, and my family was a poor one that didn't have a surname."

If he was the type, Itachi would have laughed, laughed furiously until he cried. This was another part of his purgatory, maybe the worst. He would cringe whenever someone called his name, and Itachi would relish the sting that came with every syllable. Shisui was probably in heaven, folded over in laughter as well, enjoying the results of his final bad, brilliant joke.

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><p>"I feel so fucking bad for you. First day as a slave and you get to live with fucking Naruto."<p>

Tayuya slapped Itachi on the shoulder, supposedly to comfort him. She had a strong arm.

"Yeah, I know, right? Stay away from Uzumaki, Shisui, if you know what's good for ya'."

Suigetsu chewed his rice loudly, pointing his chopsticks at Naruto, who was sitting on a rock far away, concentrating very hard on his empty bowl.

Itachi had not talked very long with Naruto, when the dull ring of a bell had announced the start of the day. Naruto had trudged over to the main entrance of the mines, grabbing a worn pick-axe from a huge pile. A guard had grabbed Itachi and shoved him in the opposite direction, towards another entrance that went deeper under the mountains. He also picked up a pick-axe, and a pair of baskets, and climbed down a ladder into a dark pit. He joined a still incomplete line of crouched men and women that were hurling all of their might into the walls of a tunnel. Right next to him stood Jugo, a mild-mannered boy with a body like a giant. Jugo was kind enough to inform Itachi on what to do. Try to break off as much coal as possible with one hit. After a while gather the coal into the basket. Then when the basket is full, dump it in a cart that would be at the other end of the tunnel.

Itachi had done things much more exerting and difficult than this. He had had trained men spar with him with sharpened knives, he had carried the carcass of a full grown pig up and down a mountain to improve his stamina. But kneeling in a cramped tunnel, using only the force of his arms to scrape off the coal, breathing in the dust that also settled on his face: it was a completely new experience. The clang of metal and rock was deafening, and in the dark he could barely hear an overseer beating another slave with his club, and the slave's pathetic pleads for mercy.

After what seemed like an infinity, the bell rang once more, and everyone emptied out of the tunnels. In the chilled winter sunlight, Itachi could see that each face had been blackened out completely, as if with ink. It was almost comical. Jugo was using his clothes to wipe the dust off his face, and Itachi used tore off the bottom hem of his sleeve (his flimsy kosode wasn't enough to block out the cold anyways) to clean up. A long line was forming in front of a stall, and every person in the queue was holding a bowl.

Jugo had introduced Itachi to his "friends," Suigetsu, Karin, Tayuya, and Kidomaru. They were eating in a circle on a relatively flat part of ground, reminding Itachi of the cliques and clans that formed at schools. It amused him, to think that even slaves had a social structure.

"Why does everyone dislike Uzumaki so much?" Itachi asked. Kidomaru snickered, and Karin nearly snorted. Suigetsu laughed aloud, and Itachi could see every sharp tooth that lined the boy's mouth.

"He's a loser, isn't it obvious? Among all these pieces of shit, he's the smelliest shit of all. Trouble follows him the way iron follows a magnet. The little prick never had two friends to rub together, never will."

Jugo quietly interrupted, "Although, you must admit, that Naruto is pretty strong. Most of the people who come here don't last more than two years. Yet no one in this mine remembers a time without Naruto."

Everyone was temporarily silenced, perhaps reminded of their predicament and their short, worthless lives.

Kidomaru awkwardly broke the lull in conversation. "I heard you were a soldier, Shisui. How the fuck did you end up here? I don't think there's any war going on but it's damn hard to tell when you never leave this place."

Itachi slipped in a little truth. "I was discharged for….misconduct. The punishment was prison or this, and all of the prisons were full."

Karin raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty harsh. You don't sound like some conscript though, maybe an officer."

"Yeah. Does Fire usually do this type of shit to officers?" said Suigetsu.

"I was nothing special, bottom rank. My family was poor and couldn't farm so I joined the army."

Kidomaru grinned lopsidedly. "Story of my fucking life and everyone else's. Orochimaru likes former soldiers as his lapdogs I guess."

"The faggot likes bitches that can fight back in the bed, that's what," said Suigetsu.

Everyone laughed, but they were cut off by the bell. Suigetsu cursed under his breath as all the bowls were returned to the stall. Itachi took the liberty to stretch his back, and then started back towards the entrance. From the corner of his eye, he could see Naruto staring at him, the jealousy synthesized crystal clear in his expression.

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><p><em>Itachi could scream. He decided to allow himself that much. It was better to scream than spill the Hokage's darkest secrets.<em>

_He could see the white, splintered bone sticking out of the skin of his leg. Even without the pain, the sight alone was enough to turn his stomach. Ibiki raised a hand and backhanded Itachi, hoping that the sounds clawing out his throat would be stopped by the sudden blow._

"_Most people would faint after that. I'm pleasantly surprised, Uchiha."_

_Itachi managed to muffle his screaming, biting down hard on his lip. It no longer worked to meditate and "lose himself." The pain and the blood and the cold air touching his open flesh was simply becoming too much. As he lay on the wooden table, bound by steel and leg bashed in with a mallet, Itachi realized that he wanted to die. To die and die and die until there was no more muscle or bone to fall apart and no eyes to see red cloaking over his vision and no Ibiki standing over him with his million and one questions—_

_Ibiki smiled grimly as he picked up a handful of small bamboo wedges "Asking is useless with you. I'll just have to go straight to the breaking point."_

_With precision born from practice, the man drove the wedges underneath Itachi's fingernails, tapping them in with the butt of his knife. Itachi closed his eyes, his teeth puncturing his lip and drawing blood. He could stand this, because this would pass. The iron that burned and hissed on his cheek had passed, as did the time some ANBU trainees used him as a sandbag. He could get through this, even if it was going so very, very slowly. He had lost too much blood, and a strong headache swirled in his skull. He opened his eyes only to see the dark cell fading into a pale yellow, and his ears rang with a distant buzz. He was going to pass out, finally—_

_His entire world burst into a hot, florescent white. Ibiki held a pair of pliers, its ends squeezing a thumbnail._

"_Four more to go."_

_Itachi stared at the katana in his hands. His gloves were damp from all of the red moonlight flowing down the blade, and Itachi felt nothing, other than the fact that of the 195 targets, he had eliminated 191. The 192__th__ was charging towards him with a mighty battle cry, and Itachi beheaded him with a single smooth movement. He wondered what all that training and sweat was for, when killing a man was so easy. You only needed to sever the jugular, or put a piece of metal through the chest, or even just hit someone hard enough in the right places, and everything would be over. He could end years of hard work and love and hate and embarrassment and joy with a single smooth movement._

_193. He saw a baby that a woman, a distant aunt of Itachi's, had been carrying. It wailed at an ear-shattering pitch, trying to earn comfort from its mother's cold body. Itachi couldn't bring himself to cut apart the little child, and instead smothered it with his palm. It struggled for a moment, but soon it stilled, and Itachi could stand up once more. He walked towards his own home, where 194 and 195 were waiting. He opened the door, and went straight to the main parlor, where both targets were waiting patiently._

"_So it comes to this."_

_Fugaku did not turn around, but Itachi could hear the disappointment in his voice. So ironic, for it was the first time Fugaku was ever disappointed in his beloved son, when Itachi was going to complete the greatest accomplishment in the history of the Uchiha clan. Itachi walked in front of the couple, his eyes respectfully turned down and his voice calm and flat._

"_I ask for your forgiveness."_

_Mikoto looked up at her little baby boy. "I know you will take good care of Sasuke."_

"_I will."_

_Itachi was quick, two successive strikes aimed directly at the heart. It was probably painless. He didn't know what it felt like to die._

_Sasuke was staring at Itachi from the stairs, his eyes like large, black ponds. The boy had rested one hand on a railing, and the other shook wildly. Itachi had expected this much. He raised his katana, its blade parallel with the slope of Sasuke's forehead._

"_Come and get me."_

_The mallet fell once again. Itachi could scream. He decided to allow himself that much._

"Shisui! Shisui!"

Itachi opened his eyes. He could feel beads of sweat rolling down his clammy face. Naruto was desperately shaking his torso, with a worried, frantic expression that Itachi recognized. A long time ago, on nights when Itachi came back from some especially gory battle, Sasuke would run to his brother's room and shake him awake. Itachi would then hold Sasuke in his arms as the little body heaved with great big sobs, because if there was something that could make his big brother wail and toss in his sleep, it had to be really, really scary.

Naruto didn't say anything as he handed the man his own canteen, which miraculously had water left over from the day. Itachi did not refuse it.

"…Nightmare, huh?" Naruto awkwardly sat next to him, because tact was something he rarely practiced, along with a quiet voice.

"Yes."

"You…you wanna' talk about it?"

Itachi let out a soft, short laugh, almost like a bark.

"No. Not tonight."

Naruto mustered the courage to pat Itachi on the back, once.

"Well…y'know…if you ever wanna'…"

The boy lay down on his side of the hut, facing away from Itachi.

Itachi closed his eyes once more. Before he fell asleep and returned to his dark cell in Kohona, he wondered what Sasuke was dreaming tonight, if they were the dreams that Itachi had not meant to give him.

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><p>I wrote this chapter two times. The first time I was sorta wandering around and stuff, not really sure what to do. I erased, and spent some time on planning out the entire story, down to the fine details. And voila! the monstrosity you see now was written within a few hours.<p>

Reviews are as always very, very welcome. Nothing makes a writer happier than his/her readers' opinion. :D


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